Nuptial Flight
by William Easley
Summary: In the third week of July, 2017, Mabel gets a quick trip to Europe, because an old friend of hers is getting married, and Mabel did call "Bridesmaid!" Hopefully this won't develop into a serious international incident.


I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you.

* * *

**Nuptial Flight**

(July 18-24, 2017)

* * *

**From the Journals of Dipper Pines: **_Today's the first day that Wendy and I have felt like running since we jumped in the lake—literally jumped. It's Saturday, July 22, and we'd planned to run at about six-thirty, since it's going to be a hot day. So anyway, I got up, she got up, we dressed out—and before we even started to stretch out, both of us got phone calls from Mabel. At the same time._

"_Seriously?" Wendy asked. "I guess—whoa, did you get—?"_

"_The wedding photo? Yeah," I said. I answered the ring and said, "Hi, Mabel—"_

"_Did you see? I caught the bouquet! Oh, my God! I'm sooo excited!"_

"_Yeah, I see you photobombed Marius and Grenda."_

"_Pfff! They'll have hundreds of pictures. I had to have one of the Maid of Honor, me, Mabel, with the bouquet! Go show Tripper! Show Waddles and Widdles! Especially show Teek, the lucky devil! Woohoo, I caught the bouquet!"_

"_Hey, hey, hey," Wendy said. I'd put the phone on speaker mode about a third of the way into Mabel's ear-splitting exclamations. "Mabes! What about Candy? Did you injure her in the scrimmage?"_

"_I never even touched her scrimmage! Where is a person's scrimmage? Anyway, I just sort of shoved her forehead, that's all," Mabel shot back. "Nah, we're cool. She's quick, but I got a better reach. Oh, my God, I'm so excited! And now we're gonna fly a private jet to Trieste—is that in France?"_

"_Italy," I corrected._

"_Same thing, and the reception, get this, is gonna be on Marius's grandfather's yacht! Big banquet shipboard out on the Mediterranean! I'm gonna be sooo seasick! Hey, what time is it there?"_

"_Six-thirty," I said._

"_Good, work's over, go drive up to Sallie's farm and show the picture to Waddles—"_

"_In the morning, Mabes!" Wendy said. "It's six-thirty in the morning!"_

"_Huh? How can that be? It's just about three-thirty in the afternoon in Austria! I haven't seen one single kangaroo, by the way. What a cheat."_

"_We're nine hours earlier than you," I told her. "When you get back, I'll explain."_

"_Yeah, I meant to tell you, have Teek come and pick us up—what? Grunkle Stan says he'll drive Candy and me back to Gravity Falls, but I gotta tell Teek all about it and I can't wait, so—Stan and Sheila can drive Candy back. And my luggage. Anywho, tell Teek it'll be ten-fifty A.M. on Monday when our flight gets in. Transoceanic Flight 618 from Vienna! Tell him! I'll text him! But don't tell him anything about the wedding! It was so beautiful! Grenda looks so radiant! My Maid of Honor dress is so cool!"_

"_Want to just run?" I whispered to Wendy._

_She nodded. So I set the phone down, Wendy and I ran for an hour and then I picked up and listened to the phone again. Just like I figured. Mabel was saying, ". . . the priest was so funny! Did you know Grenda had to become a Catholic? Well, no big deal, her folks are Episcopalian, which is kind of Catholic already—"_

"_Mabel," I said. "You are going to have to pay for this call. International rates."_

"_Huh? Is that why my phone's dinging? I guess I'd better go. See you guys next Monday! I got like a bazillion pictures, including a movie of me catching the bouquet! Two! One Grunkle Stan took, the other Graunty Sheila—"_

"_Bye," I said._

_Wendy smiled. "Guess she's getting her freak-out over now. Maybe that'll tone down what she'll do when you and me get married."_

"_Don't count on it," I told her._

_Man, this wedding business hit all of a sudden._

_Mabel was sort of distracted, maybe. Early in the summer, she'd mentioned it was coming up, but lately, nothing._

_To tell the truth, I'd forgotten all about the Grenda-Marius wedding until without warning it cropped up last Wednesday._

* * *

_Wednesday, July 19._

Dipper and Wendy passed up their run that morning—both were still achy from their lovers' leap off a cliff and into about fifteen feet of lake and another foot of sticky mud. Though the fall was a long one, several things converged to cushion their landing, but still—arms and legs were sore, and Dipper had come close to drowning—Mabel had given him mouth-to-mouth, while Wendy had administered CPR, and Dipper wished it had been the other way, because ever since, Mabel had been critical of his kissing technique, unfair considering that he had been unconscious at the time.

Anyway, his chest hurt, and he still felt a little bit woozy. But he and Wendy did go for a half-hour leisurely walk and then reported for work at 8:45 A.M. As the two of them walked into the gift shop, Dipper wondered what the heck Mabel was up to. She and Teek were embracing and kissing, right in front of the display counter with the eyeball jar, and every eyeball in it was watching them in apparent astonishment.

"Hey, hey, take it outside, guys," Wendy, in her role as manager, said. "Seriously, this is a place of business."

"But I won't see him again for nearly a week!" Mabel said, and she kissed Teek again, her arm wrapped around him, her palm on the back of his head.

"Why not?" Dipper asked.

Mabel gave him a shocked glance, bumping Teek's nose. "Because Candy and I are flying to Austria this morning!" she said. "Grunkle Ford and Sheila are going with us. You know that already! Candy and I are co-bridesmaids, dummy!"

"Wait, what? How come—oh. You mean Grenda and what's-his-name?"

"Baron Marius von Fundhauser!" Mabel said. "We have to be there on Friday morning for our final fitting—"

Wendy looked positively stunned. "Fitting? You didn't, like, make your own bridesmaids' dresses? With duct tape and tulle and all?"

"No, we sent our measurements and Grenda's taking care of all that. Pale blue! And we wear tiaras of pink roses! It'll be dreamy! I wish Teek could go!"

"Me, too," said Teek, locking lips with Mabel again.

"Dude," Wendy said to Dipper, "Do we look like that when we make out?"

"I don't know, I never looked," Dipper said.

Mabel broke away with a smack. "If you're curious how you guys look, I got some photos I'll show you."

Dipper heard a car honking and looked out the window. "Oops. Stanleymobile's here. I see Candy in the back seat."

"I gotta get my suitcase!" Mabel said. She disentwined from Teek and dashed out.

"Hey, Teek," Wendy said, "is Stan paying for all this?"

"No," Teek said, slumping against the wall. "Marius is picking up the whole tab. And he's flying them first-class, too."

Dipper whistled. "That's gotta be about ten thousand bucks right there! Wow. I know Mabel said he was rich, but—"

"He's a baron, Dipdummy!" Mabel said, staggering back in. "Teek, be a dear and run this out. I'll be right there. I forgot my passport."

"I didn't even bring my passport," Dipper said.

"Yeah, well, you aren't invited," Mabel retorted. While Teek lugged the suitcase—and not a carry-on, either, a full-scale no-nonsense suitcase—out, Mabel dashed to her room and ran back brandishing her passport. "Wish me bon voyage!"

"Have a safe trip, Mabes," Wendy said.

"Yeah, enjoy yourself, Sis," Dipper added.

They watched her through the window. She ran to the car, stood by while Teek put the suitcase in the already crowded trunk, kissed Teek, climbed into the back seat next to Candy, Teek leaned in to kiss her again, Grunkle Stan started the car, Teek ran alongside it because Mabel didn't let go, but finally he lagged behind, the back door shut, and the car was off. Teek turned to trudge back across the parking lot to the Shack.

"Hope she behaves herself," Wendy said.

"God help Grenda and Marius," Dipper added.

* * *

_From a Confidential Combined Services Report, TSA/NSA/CIA_

Regarding subject Mabel W. Pines, Passenger 1A, Transoceanic Airlines Flight 1806, PDX-VIE, 07/19/2017:

Because of a query submitted by the US State Department, we have investigated this subject's background and the questions raised by State. Our conclusion is that the subject is not dangerous, though possibly deranged. Supporting documents follow.

* * *

_1-Statement of Miranda Reinher, flight attendant, Transoceanic Airlines._

I thought at first 1A had never flown before, you know? She was very animated, especially compared to her uncle and aunt (1C, 1D) and her friend (1B). I believed she might have been nervous.

But no, because she told me all about her flight experiences. Over and over. And she used a total of eight airsickness bags. Eight! I grant, it is a long flight. 1806 makes stops in Boston, Dublin, and then on to Vienna. Nineteen hours. Nineteen endless hours with someone like 1A talking a mile a minute for every one of those nineteen hours in between filling the airsickness bags.

I thought she was joking when she told me that she and her traveling companion, 1B, were going to be bridesmaids at a royal wedding, but her uncle told me that was true enough. A young Austrian nobleman is marrying a friend of theirs, apparently. I can't imagine how she could have met a real Austrian baron, but—there you are. The gentleman showed me his invitation, and I do recall the name—von Fundhauser. The von Fundhausers are very rich, and I believe the wedding was to be held at Schloss Fundhauser. That is in the south of the country, overlooking the River Gail.

No, I would not say that 1A was disruptive so much as talkative. Even being airsick did not slow her down. I have never seen a passenger so cheerful about needing airsick bags.

She did not strike me as dangerous, no. Just . . . talkative.

* * *

_[NOTE: The passenger occupying Seat 1B is Candy (not short for Candace—real name) Chu, 18, of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Her parents emigrated from Seoul to the USA when she was seven years old. Her father, Tae-ho "Ted" Chu, is an electrical engineer and holds five U.S. patents on circuit components used in electronic game devices. Her mother, Candace Hill Chu, is a Korean-American woman who is a homemaker. CIA reports no suspicious activity among any of the family. Tae-ho Chu has older relatives (brother and sister) in Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington, respectively. No suspicious connections or activity. Subject Candy Chu gave no reasons to be regarded as a person of interest.]_

* * *

_2-Report of Agent CV-332._

An Air Marshal aboard the plane reported that a passenger aboard Flight 1806 was behaving in a suspicious manner. The American Embassy requested surveillance. Accordingly, I was at the VIE airport when the flight arrived at 1409 hours, 07/20/19.

Subject Pines, M, was the first passenger off the aircraft. I was posing as an airline attendant, and I asked if I could help her transfer to a connecting flight.

"Nope," she said. "Hey, are you a spy? You look like a spy. Are you a spy?"

"No," I said. "I'm with the airline—"

She laughed. "Baloney! You're American. I can tell. So am I! What a coincidence! My name's Mabel. Hey, I own a pig! Do you like pigs? You look like you'd like pigs!"

"Yes, I'm an American," I said, "but remember, this airline is based in Boston. Uh, pigs are OK. Look, Miss, I'm just trying to be helpful. Are you alone?" (By this time other passengers were deplaning.)

"Nope," she said, looking back toward the jetway. "My Grunkle and Graunty and bff are somewheres back there, the slowpokes. Hey, did you get my name? It's Mabel. What's your name, Daring T. Dreamboat? 'Cause you're kinda good-looking in a James Bondy way."

"As a matter of fact my name really is James," I told her.

She giggled. "No, it's not. You're definitely not a James!"

"I am," I said, showing her my employee badge, which was in the name of James Franklin.

"Yeah, yeah, I've seen Agent Trigger wearing a badge that said he was Timmy Sadboddy, too. C'mon, my grunkle's in the spy biz. I know one when I see one! What are you packing in the shoulder holster, a Glick? I bet it's a Glick nine-millimeter, am I right?"

My personal sidearm is in fact a nine-millimeter Glick EQ-16. And I was in harness. Subject Pines has very keen powers of observation.

At that point, an older gentleman, approximately fifty years of age, in company with a woman about ten years younger, came out and he called, "Mabel, sweetie, don't run off! I know you're not a toddler any longer, but sheesh, kid!"

"It's OK," subject Pines said. "I'm talking to this undercover guy here. He_ says _he's James Franklin. Hey, Candy, come here and meet this spy!"

An Asian girl wearing glasses approached me. "Hello, sir," she said. "I am an American citizen! I can recite the Preamble to the Constitution, and I know why there are thirteen stripes in the American flag."

"That's nice," I said. I noted that the other three in the party looked definitely jet-lagged and sleepy, but subject Pines seemed hyper-animated.

"This is my Graunty Sheila and my Grunkle Stan," subject Pines said.

From the look of him and his behavior, I would not have thought her grunkle—I found out that is code for "great-uncle"—could possibly be an agent, but then perhaps that is what sets off the best agents from the rest of us. However, he stared hard at me and said, "November Bravo, huh? No alligators in the Potomac."

As you already know, that is one of seventy assorted code terms to self-identify as a member of the U.S. Intelligence community. I almost automatically responded with "Yankee March. A man who sits in the marketplace never hears the nightingale."

"Fireworks never silence crickets. That's OK, then," the man said. "You can stand down."

Somehow subject Pines cajoled me into helping her carry her luggage to a limousine waiting for their party. I took the license information and later learned that the automobile belonged to Count Ritter von Fundhauser and was driven by Maximilian Broum, a chauffeur who has been employed by the Count for fifteen years.

The information I gathered indicates that subject Pines is indeed the Maid of Honor at the Count's grandson's wedding to an American, Miss Grenda Grendinator of Oregon.

Conclusion: While this all does in fact appear to be innocent, subject Pines just may be an apprentice agent with some Agency. When I submitted an RFI [RFI="Request for Information"] to Clearinghouse for verification of the existence of an Agent Stan Pines, I received this response:

* * *

CLEARINGHOUSE CENTRAL TO AGT CV-332 RE RFI 762-2017:

NEVER MIND ABOUT ALL THAT.

* * *

This indicates that information does exist, but I am to pursue it no further. However, in confidence I suspect the elder Pines may be a very highly placed officer within the US Intel community. Recommend circumspection in future dealing with the Pines family of Gravity Falls, Oregon.

Report ends.

CV-332

* * *

_3-Memorandum from Helmsley Steffel, attaché to the American Embassy:_

In re: Request for covert surveillance on subject Pines.

I do wish your people would perform their own acts of espionage. Yale did not train me to be a spy, but a diplomat. That said, per your request, I did attempt to surveille—is that even a word? It does not look like a proper word. To keep an eye on the subject during the rehearsal and the wedding.

On Friday afternoon, we reported to the church (St. Liutberga's, in the state of Kärnten). Rather contrary to convention, subject Pines was attired in blue jeans and a sweater. Her friend Chu, on the other hand, wore a decent dress and proper head covering. The bride-to-be, Miss Grenda Grendinator, took subject Pines into a washroom and when they came out, she was in a dress that was ill-fitting but more appropriate to the occasion.

I spoke briefly to subject Pines's aunt and uncle. They are a pleasant, somewhat rustic American couple. The uncle wished to show me card tricks, but I politely declined. (I later learned that he won twenty cents from the priest on some trifling bet. He gave the piece of Euro currency to his niece as a lucky charm, he said.)

The aunt, Sheila Pines, was friendlier and more low-key. She told me about how the bride and her niece met the young Marius Fundhauser (note: Austrian titles are merely ceremonial, and rarely used, though at the wedding he was recognized as Baron von Fundhauser, a title to which he succeeded when his parents both died in an unfortunate whaling accident).

According to Mrs. Pines, Marius Fundhauser attended a rather well-known soirée at the home of a noted American industrialist, Mr. Preston Northwest. I know little about him, save that he is a Harvard man. I may say that I would never attend one of his gatherings.

Since Northwest's celebration was held in his home town in the state of Oregon, which is the hometown, too, I gather, of subject Pines, she and her friends Candy Chu and Grenda Grendinator were invited. Young Marius was smitten, and after a long engagement, their wedding was set for Saturday.

I must say subject Pines comported herself decently during the rehearsal. Later, at the rehearsal dinner, she displayed an astonishing appetite, but ate with passable manners, save for the fact that she was the last person at table to finish—fifteen minutes after everyone else had laid down fork and knife.

At no point did I observe suspicious behavior on her part. However, at the wedding, after the ceremony had concluded, she caught the bridal bouquet, having stiff-armed not only Chu but three to five daughters of upper-class Austrian society, and thereafter celebrated at the top of her lungs.

While I do not think subject P's activities constituted a breach of international law, I most earnestly suggest that the Ambassador issue friendly apologies to the appended list of Austrian dignitaries. I think this will blow over. I would be reluctant to put this in an official statement from our office, but in confidence, I saw the offended parties laughing along with subject Pines, and my private opinion is that they wrote it all off as American boisterousness. In fact, from all appearances, they greatly enjoyed her antics.

Respectfully,

H.M. Steffel, Assistant to the U.S. Ambassador to Austria

* * *

07/24/2017

_Concluding remarks from AIC Falcon._

A CIA craft disguised as a tour boat surveilled the yacht _Adler, _the property of Baron Fundhauser's grandfather, on the evening of the wedding.

The Adler set sail from Trieste at about 1805 local time and cruised for four hours. A wedding banquet was held aboard for approximately sixty guests. The reporting agent kept subject Pines in his binoculars (both day- and night-vision) every time she was on deck. He reports that she seemed to eat heartily and threw up over the rail three times. Seasickness did not seem to dampen her enthusiasm.

On Sunday, our man at the Vienna airport, Agent CV-332, staying well-hidden, witnessed the Pines group board flight 618 to Portland, Oregon, USA. Subject Pines was as animated as she was upon arrival. The flight took off, as scheduled, at 1215 local time.

Inquiries have indicated no concerns for follow-up. It appears that subject Pines is just that way.

We do have a Most Confidential memo on file from Deputy Director Powers of the GIB to the effect that "MP situation is well in hand. Eyes off."

Therefore we are terminating the matter.

The total costs of the operation amount to $41,742.13. I shall leave it to the main office to determine from which budgets this amount should be deducted.

* * *

Verbal observation from Muriel Lachlan, Chief Auditor for Combined Intelligence Services:

"Your tax dollars at work."

* * *

_Monday, July 24, 1:00 PM_

Dipper and Wendy were lazing in the parlor, trying to decide what to do for a date that evening, when the door of the gift shop banged open. A joyous Tripper galloped over their legs—he had been lying on the corner of the sofa, Dipper in the middle, Wendy to his right, with her long legs over his lap—and with nails slipping on the wood floor, the happy dog dashed into the gift shop and barked.

And a moment later, Teek and Mabel pushed through the doorway, with Tripper dancing around their feet. "Off the sofa!" Mabel yelled, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm back, baby! And me and Teek have some heavy-duty snogging to catch up on!"

Wendy and Dipper gave them room—and Teek and Mabel immediately took advantage of it. "Wanna go for a long walk, Dip?" Wendy asked, standing up.

Glancing at his sister sitting in her boyfriend's lap, their arms wrapped around each other, Dipper also stood as he said, "Tell you what. Let's run instead."

* * *

_The End_

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_I shall be offline for the next week or so, because my family is having a big week-long reunion/vacation in central Florida. Be good until I get back!_


End file.
